


On The Rise

by writing_crocodiles



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Early Rumplings, F/M, Fluff, Freeform, New York City, Spinner Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, The Enchanted Forest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-11-09 05:11:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11097591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_crocodiles/pseuds/writing_crocodiles
Summary: After stabbing Zoso, Rumplestiltskin encounters a young girl that claims to be the entity of the Darkness. She says she hasn't truly accepted him as the Dark One yet and that he will need to prove himself.During his journey to do so, he meets a young woman named Belle French. Can he convince her he's an upstanding gentleman, all the while darkening his heart so he may save his son?





	1. As the Sun Rose

Liquid crimson delicately slipped off the edge of the dagger, crashing to the dead man’s chest and only standing out a second before blending into the blood-soaked tunic. Rumplestiltskin watched this with a horror struck sort of awe; his mouth hanging slightly open. 

His name, where only minutes before was Zoso, had been etched into the blade. If flowed with the design, curling in and out of the curves. 

He had killed the Dark One. He could save Bae. 

His heart leapt with joy at that prospect. 

Despite the overwhelming source of glee that coursed through him, he found that his hands were still shaking, causing more blood to fall from the dagger’s tip. He wished they would stop. He wanted to seem brave. After all, he had just killed a man to save his son’s life. Surely sacrificing one man by your cursed, shaking hands was better than allowing your son to be marched to his death?

Still enchanted by his name on the blade, he sat up. It was strange and, in a growing sense, familiar all the same. With a sudden jolt, he realized he was still straddling a dead man. He yelped and jumped up, stumbling back a few steps. 

Dead man…

Dead man. 

Murderer. 

He swallowed hard and kept the dagger at an arm’s length. As he stared at both the dead Dark One and the weapon bearing his name he thought on it. For that’s what he was now. He was a murderer. 

His lips ironed into a flat line- he wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than “coward”. He wasn’t sure if any of this was better or worse than being known as a coward. It meant everything could go back to how it was, though. They wouldn’t bother them anymore. A second rush of emotion flowed over his mind, this time an immense sense of peace. 

It made his breath slow. 

He was calm, in control, in charge….

As he thought these words he subconsciously knew he was saying them out loud. They rolled of his tongue so easy. So naturally. 

Dark, power, death, life, hate, love….

He was floating, his mind suspended in a limbo. He was there in the clearing, but he wasn’t there. He was the Dark One…

“Actually,” a voice interrupted, “not yet.” 

He started; his eyes snapping wide. He turned to the newcomer, holding the dagger defensively at their throat. 

The woman before him wore a simper that was set in her faintly shimmering skin. In fact, the skin was a marvel in itself. It looked like a blend between copper, green, and gold in the torchlight. Almost like Zoso’s skin had been. She was shorter than him, her big eyes gazing up into him. She wore a leather ensemble and her chestnut hair was pulled back in a long braid. 

“I am the Dark One,” she said, answering his questioning thoughts. She studied him as he stood there, trying to comprehend her, calculating what she might do next. 

“No,” he protested, “no. I’m the Dark One. Look.” His voice had crescendoed rapidly, becoming more panicked. He held up the dagger to her face to show her his name. 

“No,” she mimicked, “that dagger shows the name of the Dark One’s host. You are nothing more than a host, my boy.”

A host?

“B- but I ki-killed-”

“Who? Him?” She said, one arm pointing around him to where Zoso lay, “He was one of the weakest hosts to date. Absolutely disgusting. I advised against him searching for his own demise, but of course he doesn’t have to listen to me.” 

Rumple’s head was now spinning, trying to understand all this talk of hosts and the Dark One not being a person, but a parasite. The woman was still talking to him, her voice held his same accent and he wondered whether she always sounded that way or if it was only because he was the… host…. 

“Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be better than him in every way.” Her smile made him feel sick. She raised her hands delicately, placing them on either side of his face, “Won’t you?”

He gave a jerky nod and she pulled back, giggling. 

“Oh, that is wonderful. I was trapped with him and his gloomy attitude for far too long,” she muttered, “I still had to tell him not to kill himself, thought. What if I had gotten somebody worse than him?” She was rambling and Rumple’s mind went back to his son. What if they had already come for him? What if they were wasting time? What if he was already gone? What if-

“I- I’m sorry, but my- my boy,” he swore inwardly for stuttering, “he’s alone and the- they’re going to come for him.” 

She was smiling again and something devious was playing behind her glittering eyes. She was playing a game with him, this much he knew, and he wasn’t enjoying it one bit. She rose onto the balls of her feet so she was in his face. Quickly he tried to think of a word to describe that smile. 

“Are you willing to do absolutely everything I say, Rumplestiltskin?”

Evil. That was the word for it. 

“Yes,” he said firmly, surprised he didn’t hear a waver in his voice.

She gave a light, derisive sigh, “I wish I could believe you.” She backed away and skirted around him, going to Zoso’s body, “but I can’t trust anyone as easily as that.” There was a small pause, “Are you willing to prove yourself worthy of the Dark One’s power?”

“Yes.”

“Good…” she said, a purr in her tone, “follow me, Rumplestiltskin, you have quite the task ahead.”

He watched her hips sway as she sauntered into the wood. Tearing his gaze away from the spot where she had gone he looked to the torch, still stuck in the ground, and his walking stick. It lay forgotten on the forest floor and, with a cocktail of surprise and satisfaction he discovered his leg didn’t hurt. 

Stepping forward he placed all his weight on it. There was no searing pain. It was as it had been all those years before. 

He started to get excited. This was really happening. He was really the Dark One. Bae wouldn’t have to go to his death. The Ogres War was as good as over. Peace could return. Life could go back to the way it was. 

He frowned. 

The way it was…?

Did he really want that?

With this power the Darkness promised him he and Bae could live like kings and never have want ever again. If so, why stop at living like kings? With this power he could make them kings. 

His frown deepened, but was that what he wanted?

There was no point in thinking of what he wanted or didn’t want at this point in time- he and his son could figure it out later. With that settled, he found Zoso’s words echoed back to him.

Are you sure he’s your son?

His breath caught and he knew he would be lying he said he hadn’t thought about it. Who knows what Milah was doing on the side of their marriage. He looked more like Milah than Rumple anyway, and Rumple tried not to look for features that could connect a different man to being his father. 

Bae was his son; what did it matter if he had Rumple’s blood or not?

Relation is only a fraction of what makes someone family.

He shook his head, trying to clear it. Sunlight was starting to stream into the clearing and he looked up to see how far the woman had wandered away. The answer was “not far”. 

She stood in the underbrush around 100 feet in front of him, the dark of the night having been her main cover. She looked impatient and lifted her chin as she shouted at him.

“Are you coming or not?”

Sheepish, he started to trot after her, leaving everything but the dagger, still in his hand, behind. She barely waited for him to catch up before walking farther into the forest. They fell into step beside each other, Rumple making sure he stayed with a foot of space between them. He had several questions that piled up in his mind, but he didn’t know how to ask them.

Unbeknownst to him, she knew every single thing that was running through his head, she was trying her hardest to figure out which one to answer first. She settled with “What’s her name”. 

“You have to realize something, Rumplestiltskin,” she said aloud, “the Dark One is an entity, an enigma of sorts. I don’t have a physical appearance, so when I appear to a host I take the guise of the most recently deceased host.”

Another question popped into his head, springboarding off of her answer.

“I have already voiced my displeasure and what human scum Zoso was, so the reason I don’t look like him right now is quite plainly because I hated him. This is who he killed to become the Dark One himself. Her name was something along the lines of Keriam or whatever.” She waved it off with, “If you truly feel I need a name you may call me that.”

Rumple stayed quiet, not knowing how to branch off of that, or if he even wanted to.

They walked in silence through the heavy blanket of mist pooling around their feet. It was almost an hour later that Rumple finally wondered where she was taking him. His village was in the exact opposite direction. 

The tree-line broke as he almost got the courage to ask her. The Earth immediately sloped down in front of them, stretching out and turning into a small town. White houses stood like small animals huddled together, their red and black roofs giving them a funny sort of character. A pleasant cobblestone street wound in between them, travelling off into the hills. 

“Keriam,” Rumple said.

She flinched at the name, “what?”

“I need to go home,” he reiterated, “today’s my boy’s birthday and they’re coming to take him. I need to- we need to get home. W-we need to-”

The Dark One rolled her eyes and cut him off, “If you’re going to keep whining about your son we’re going to have a problem.” 

That shut him up and she turned to him, pointing toward the town. Distant people were just emerging from their homes and walking along the street to their various jobs. There was a brief moment in which he thought his task was going to be to destroy the town and she caught it. 

“You see this field?” she said.

He nodded, grip tightening on the dagger. 

“You cannot use magic yet,” she continued, “because the Darkness had not fully accepted you, yet.”

“You haven’t accepted me…?” Then, off her hesitant look, “What do you need me to do?”

“I’m going to lend you some power through the dagger and with it you will open a portal to an alternated realty. That is where you will prove yourself to me.”

He was still thinking about saving his son, so she added, “Time will be virtually paused there. We have as much time as needed for you to prove yourself.” She cocked her head to the side and strode forward. He stiffened as she came close, circling him. She stopped at his shoulder, peeking around it at the empty field before them.

“Test number one,” she whispered to him, “raise the dagger and summon the portal, Rumplestiltskin. 

It took him a moment, but slowly, he did.


	2. Stranger in the Empty City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple meets a young girl when Keriam sends him to do her laundry.

ONE WEEK LATER

Rumplestiltskin, dressed in the jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket he had become partial with, stood at the corner of North and 5th waiting for the light to change. He rocked back and forth, pausing and bouncing on the balls of his feet. After a day of exploration, he was heading back to the apartment building he was learning to consider home. It had been difficult to get used to this strange new world, as well as the fact that time was not moving in the original one, but with Keriam’s help he was able to adapt in only a couple days. 

The streetlight blipped from red to green and the open palm turned to the walking man, giving him the go ahead to cross the street. He started at a brisk pace, but pulled into a jog until he reached the other end of the street. 

He had honestly forgotten how nice it was to go slightly faster than a plod, and so he enjoyed it when he had an excuse to speed up. He even tried to go on a run through a nearby park on day three of his time in the city. However, it was far less thrilling than he had thought it would be, and he ended up hot, sweaty, out of breath, and thoroughly disappointed with the morning. 

There were hardly any people on the sidewalk and even less cars on the road. Not that he had any experience with cities, but Rumple found it odd. Although, as previously stated, he knew nothing about cities, especially seemingly futuristic cities with things such as cars,elevators, hot dog vendors, and skyscrapers, so perhaps the size of them was nothing more than a front and all towns this size were sparse with no one to fill the tall apartment buildings. 

In fact, he himself hadn’t met a single other tenant in his building besides Keriam, who had taken up directly across the hall from him. 

He reached the complex, let himself in, and casually walked past the vacant reception desk to the stairs. He always took the stairs because, frankly, the idea of elevators scared him. You could get trapped and never be found, or you could be dropped down the shaft and your last words would be nothing but your scream. 

The stairs also gave him time to think. They had been here a full week and so far Keriam had not given him one thing to do to “prove himself”. All that seemed to be coming of this was him gaining experience as a personal manservant. 

His foot gave a solid thunk as he arrived on the top floor. Down the hall, two doors were open. As he moved closer he realized they were his apartment and Keriam’s. Canned laughter was blaring from his and, when he stopped by the doorframe, he could see the set up. 

Keriam, whose skin was normal in this alternate reality, was sitting in a reclining chair, completely asleep with a half-eaten bag of kettle corn tucked in her arms. She had opened his door, he guessed with magic, and set up his television in the entryway. Then she pulled her recliner to her door and proceeded to watch. 

Sliding past his TV, which he had protested against, he made his way into the apartment. There was no reason to wake her and scold her at the moment. Instead, he went to his room and launched himself onto the scarlet comforter. 

Giving into comfort, his gaze moved over to the nightstand whereupon sat a picture of Rumple and a smiling, much younger, Baelfire. Of course, it was moderated for this world, so they were on a Carousel, Rumple’s arm looped around the toddler’s waist to keep him from falling. 

Keriam had made it for him on night 1 as she was trying “as best as Darkness could” to comfort him. He had been crying and she saw a picture of his son as a pacifier. Knowing he hated him talking about his son, as she had been so vocal about, he tried to stop, but it was like everything from the past fourteen years had come crashing down on him at once. 

He hated crying. It showed just how much of a coward he was. He couldn’t even pass a simple test without being scared of things out of his control. He hated that. 

“Oh, good, you’re back.”

Rumple flipped over and saw Keriam standing right outside the room. He laced his fingers and placed them on his abdomen, waiting patiently for the next chore she would ask of him. 

“I’m going to leave my laundry in the hallway,” she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder, “could you be a dear and take care of it in the laundry room downstairs? Thanks.” She tapped the frame with her hand and disappeared into the apartment before he could protest. 

Laundry. Yeah. Great. 

He rolled into a sitting position and stood. The TV was back in place, he noticed with a small sneer. Gee, that was sure nice of her. 

Upon opening the front door he was greeted by three large black garbage sacks he could only guess were full of clothes. He twisted the strings ties around his hands and hoisted them up, mentally preparing for the long trek downstairs. 

If he was being honest, the laundry room was not what he was expecting. Big, monster-like machines lined the walls, ready to go to work, yet still and silent. The eerie atmosphere made his skin crawl. Did anyone live in this building at all?

He picked a machine and stood in front of it awkwardly, not sure how to proceed. 

The bags’ strings were starting to dig into his fingers, turning his hands white and red. He put them down, trying to focus on this machine. There were two main dials. Simple enough.

Large load? It was a large load, right? It seemed like a large load. He turned that dial and moved onto the next. Hot-hot, cold-cold, hot-cold, warm wash. His face scrunched up and panic flared in his eyes. What was this?

“You have to put coins in it.”

Rumple jumped, looking to the voice. The owner was a relatively young girl with a holey laundry basket on her hip. She was wearing ridiculously tall heels and grey tights on legs that ran up and ended in a short, grey skirt. Her chestnut hair was curled and wrangled into a side pony. 

“What?” Rumple said. 

“You have to put coins in it,” she repeated. It seemed she had just walked in and it surprised him that he had not heard her over the dead state of the room. She assumed position at the washer across from his, beginning to throw clothes in the basin. 

“Right, right, yeah,” he said, opening the bags and following suit. 

“Are you new in the building?” She asked, not halting her laundry process, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“I’ve only been here about a week.”

“Oh?” She was curious, “as in the building or as in the city?”

Rumple paused, then, “Both, I guess.”

“Both?” She said, a pretty smile lighting up her face. 

“Yeah,” he said, not being able to help but smile back. 

Seeing this, she bit her lower lip and went back to her laundry. She put 8 quarters in the slots assigned, turned the dial, pulled the dial out, and it started. He watched her and pulled a face; it seemed simple enough. When this was all finished, she produced a fairly thick novel from the bottom of her basket and slid to the floor, appearing to be done with the conversation.

He raised up onto his tiptoes, looking down at the top of her head. He watched her until he heard the thwip of a page. Lowering back down, he made sure the bags were empty (it amazed him all of those clothes could fit in the small machine, but he wasn’t going to question it) and closed the lid. 

Coins, right. 

He pulled out his pockets, finding nothing but lint. 

Back up to the apartment it was. He started to the door, but the woman’s voice stopped him.

“You’re going to leave without telling me your name?” She said it like it was an off-hand topic, but obviously she had found it important enough to look up from her book. 

“I- I- uhm,” his throat was suddenly dry, “I have to go get some coins.”

She was amused, “Odd name.” A few seconds, “Oh, uh, mine’s Belle.” 

He opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. Was she-? No. Was she… trying to flirt with him? No, stupid. Of course she isn’t flirting. Some women and just nice. 

“Do you have something else I can call you?” She asked, “Besides that ridiculously long name about coins?” 

“Rumplestiltskin,” he said, almost too eager to answer, “my name is Rumplestiltskin.”

“Rumplestiltskin,” she echoed, folding her lips in to suppress a smile, her eyes giving her away. She thought it was funny. 

He recoiled, the corner of his mouth twitching, and backed to the door, “I have to go get coins.”

“Okay,” she said, going back to her book. That was obviously the end of the interaction and he escaped out the door. He took the stairs two at a time until he was tired, and then trudged the rest of the way to his apartment. He quickly found the box of petty cash Keriam had given him. He took the exact amount needed and hurried back downstairs. By the time he had finished traveling their length for the third time that day, he found himself seriously considering the elevator. 

He made his way back to the laundry room and was a little sad to see Belle was gone. The machine with Keriam’s clothes was running, though and he noticed a sticky note on one of the dials. 

 

Save your coins for next laundry day. ;)  
~Belle

 

If he had to sum the day up in one word it would be “confusing”, but you wouldn’t hear him complaining. Hopefully she would be there the next week and maybe Keriam would let him to her laundry again. 

“Rumple.”

He looked up sharply to see Keriam sitting on the washer. Her eyes were wide and curious. 

“What is it, Keriam?”

Her lips pressed into a tight smile, “I figured we could talk while we waited for the laundry to be done.” 

It wasn’t as if he could say no, so he shrugged and hopped up so he was sitting next to her, “So… what does the Darkness want to speak about?”

“Oh, the usual things. Your first step to proving yourself.”


	3. The World She Knew Crumbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On her own, the Darkness tries to collect her thoughts and ends up meeting a very interesting person.

“Have you made a decision?”

Keriam had obviously been sitting on the question the whole morning and found it a fit time to finally ask it. 

They were sitting in the noonday sun on a park bench with chipping paint. Keriam had spoken in between sips of her coffee, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. Her legs swung back and forth, not quite reaching the ground, and giving her a motion to help expel her anxiousness. She hated it in these simulations and the sooner they could get out the sooner the real corruption could begin. 

Rumple, on the other hand, had just finished off his sandwich and used the excuse of a full mouth to not answer her. When he was finished he looked down at the crumb-filled saran wrap in his hands. He tore it nervously, knowing she wasn’t going to like the answer. 

“No, I haven’t.”

Keriam scoffed, “I’ve given you a full day, Rumplestiltskin.”

“I know,” he muttered, “I know, but I was-”

“You were what?”

“I was busy.”

“Busy with what? Your sandwich?”

Truth be told, his mind had been split somewhere between Bae and Belle. He was in a never-ending circle. He still wanted to get back to his son and save him, but the feeling had waned immensely, and that scared him. He felt happy in this world, unbothered, like he was safe. No one could touch him in this world. That’s what led him to Belle. Something seemed right about her, and he had this irritating feeling that he was supposed to get to know her better. Then he would remind himself that she wasn’t real. None of this was real. 

“I met someone,” he said suddenly. Almost immediately he wanted to snatch all three words back and swallow them. 

“That’s impossible,” Keriam said, sneering, “This place doesn’t have real people. It’s just a simulation.”

With all of his will power, Rumple didn’t question her. She made this place, so she should know. Belle had seemed real, though. 

Keriam saw the confusion on his face and, now familiar with this emotion painted on him, sighed loudly.

“Have you ever actually touched anyone on the street?”

Rumple searched his memory. Surely he brushed someone’s shoulder at least once? He took too long to answer and Keriam became impatient again. A jogger, feet tapping on the sidewalk as she ran, started around the bend and towards them. The Dark One held up a finger and stood. She took position squarely in the woman’s path, putting her fists on her hips. 

Instead of the jogger correcting her route, she seemed to move through Keriam. Like the girl was a ghost instead of flesh. 

“Magic?” Rumple asked simply, hoping this would prompt a somewhat easy answer. 

Keriam watched the jogger continue into the park and rolled her eyes at the sound of his voice. She turned to him and brought her hands up to her face, giving her wrists a small twist and flashing a ridiculously sarcastic smile. 

“Magic.” She answered. She dropped her arms and spun on her heel, stalking away in the same direction the example had gone. Rumple knew he would see her later at the apartment complex and stayed on the bench, trying to puzzle out what dark deed he could to secure a way out of here. However, it had to be light enough that redemption would be possible when he was done with the Darkness.  
___________________________________________________________  
Keriam had honestly expected him to follow her, but wasn’t too torn up when he didn’t. They could always talk later, but something he had said still bothered her. 

“I met someone”. 

What type of teenage sweetheart bull was that? He sounded like he was trying to turn this whole experience into a romance novel. No. Not going to happen. She had hopes for him. He was going to be the most powerful Dark One Host ever is she had anything to say about it.

She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. Great, now she was grumpy. She needed to wreck some havoc. Knock over a tomato stand, break someone’s femur, make a little kid let go of a balloon, kill something with a fireball, or something like that. 

At this time she had reached the only pond in the park and, wearing a frown, she crouched down at the water’s edge. As she thought more on her host’s first task she swirled a finger around in the damp pebbles, listening to them rub together. A murder would be ideal, but he didn’t seem like the murdering type, yet. “Yet” being the operative word in that phrase. Yes, it wouldn’t before long that he could snap someone’s neck without thinking about it. She could fix him like she fixed all the others. 

Of course, then there was this thing about a girl, which was beyond odd. She hadn’t lied to him, nothing and no one in this world was real. Perhaps he was crazy. Perhaps she had been stuck with a loony for a host… again….

Risking the seat of her pants becoming wet, she took her feet out from under her and sat on the shore. 

The water was still, not even a whisper of movement in the light breeze. She remembered suddenly one host, a man by the name of Alejete, that would often sit by a stream outside his laid and listen to the water. She found it trivial then, but had learned to appreciate it; then he was killed a week later by the succeeding host. Rotten luck, but that’s how it went. 

“Excuse me?”

Keriam recognized the accent and she looked to the question’s point of origin. A young woman around her physical guise’s age stood a little ways off on the path, obviously not wanting to risk a broken ankle if she wobbled out onto the pebbles in her ridiculously high heels. 

It had been forever since someone besides a host had addressed her directly. That was problem #1. Problem #2 was involved in the fact that this was a simulation, as she had said so many times before, and no one should be addressing her directly. 

“Yes?” Keriam said lightly, trying to enter this conversation with caution. 

“I’m just a little lost,” the woman said, “could you point me in the direction of the nearest park exit?”

What she wanted to do was tell her to get lost even more and never be found again, but instead she gave her a twitching half smile and pointed down the path where she and Rumple were previously talking. 

She gave her thanks and then began to flounce away. Keriam only took a second more before deciding what she was going to do. She stood and looked after the girl, tilting her head to the side. In a quick flick of her wrist, the woman’s neck snapped into an unnaturally awkward angle and she fell to the pavement. 

That was it. That was the end. 

Keriam, still hesitant, moved forward and circled her body once before bending down and searching her for ID. There was none. 

Straightening, she realized exactly how rash her reaction had been. What if this was the person he was speaking of and she could have used her for Rumplestiltskin’s training? Then, perhaps this may not have even been the girl that Rumple was talking about. She sneered, it might not have even been a girl that he was talking about, at all. What if he preferred men and there was some sentient male wandering around? No matter what it was, she cursed herself for getting rid of her so quickly and waved a hand over the woman’s lifeless body. It disappeared in a cloud of scarlet smoke. 

There was nothing she could do about it now; there was no reason to fret over it. 

With this in mind, she headed back to the apartment. 

As she reached the old building and went inside, she heard voices. This was not something that she wanted to hear, especially when one of them was her host. In the lobby stood Rumplestiltskin and a woman that should not be there. A woman that Keriam had only moments before seen with a broken neck. 

“Keriam,” Rumple’s eyes were lit up with a smile, “this is Belle, the woman I told you about.”

Internally screaming, the Darkness tried to remember her manners, “Charmed.”

Belle wore a smile to match his, “Pleasure to meet you. Rumple was telling me all about you.”

“Was he?” Keriam said, finding it increasingly harder to breath. Spots danced in front of her eyes. She didn’t know what was going on. She was dead. She was dead. Shewasdeadshewasdeadshewasdeadshewasde-

“Keriam, are you alright?”

She blinked and looked up at him, “I’m fine, Rumplestiltskin. I’m just going to go upstairs and, uh… take a shower.”

Rumple seemed worried for her and she reiterated that she was okay before she started to sway. She couldn’t believe it, but she took in the possibility that she was actually about to pass out. Belle’s hand was on her arm and Keriam inhaled sharply. She touched her. Human contact. She was real. She wasn’t a simulation. There was a real person in this city. 

The Darkness felt sick. 

What. 

The.

Hell.


	4. To Be a Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Keriam's instruction, Rumple completes his first task.

It was almost too easy and Keriam knew it. However, even though she was thoroughly annoyed with him, she couldn’t very well kill him and wander as a free entity, so Rumple got to carry out his newbie level plan. Pathetic, but she explained how it could be done anyway. 

Objects in the simulation were separate from the human. If someone had something on them and they put it down, the instant they left contact said object would become tangible. For instance, a purse. 

During this enlightening conversation, Rumple had found a spot he thought appropriate to mention Belle. Keriam brushed it off, saying it was rude to interrupt, and continued with what she found important for him to know. It wasn’t surprising that they never came back to the subject. 

Rumple stood at the corner of Cherry and 18th. There was a bench there and the Dark One Host knew that someone would come along and put down their bag eventually. He was patient, it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be, and he did as Keriam had instructed. Leaning against the pole that stretched up and branched into the streetlight, he angled himself so that the bench was in view, but not in the direct line of sight. Keriam had said that even though this was a simulation, the people were still capable of feeling creeped out. They call the cops? The entire thing is over. 

He didn’t see how this fit into him being accepted by the Darkness and, if anything, it just added unnecessary stress to the deed. He just needed to do something dark, right? Who cared if the police were called or not?

The morning passed quickly and when noon came Rumple found that he was surprisingly void of hunger. No one had come to the bench, yet, so he knew he couldn’t abandon his post even if he was dying from starvation. Since they had come to the city, though, his appetite had lessened greatly. It was nice not having to worry about eating, but it did make him think. 

He hadn’t been sleeping much, either, and in the past week it had become a common occurrence for him to stay up well into the hours of the morning. The night before he had hardly slept at all. Maybe just ten minutes around 5:00 AM. Even with this, he wasn’t feeling the effects of sleep deprivation like he normally would have. Instead he felt as awake as ever. You could almost say energized. 

A crying baby drew his attention away from his thoughts. A woman, purse dangling precariously from one arm and red-faced child in the other, shuffled past a couple people waiting to cross the street, furiously apologizing under her breath. He was sorry for her and if they had been in another setting perhaps he would have told her that he understood. Whenever he had to go to the market to sell wool, before Baelfire was old enough to be left at home and Milah spent most of her time at the tavern, Rumple took his son along. When Bae got fussy, however, Rumple had no place to go to calm him. He had to watch his merchandise and couldn’t go find a place to sit down to soothe him. 

Rumple straightened. Sit down? He watched her nestle on the bench and unloop her arm from the purse handles, diverting both appendages to her child. The baby had quieted down now, but this also left her purse abandoned.

Stealing- dark. 

Stealing a purse from the mother of a small child- darker. 

Maybe that would appease her. 

He crept steadily forward, keeping his head on a swivel to make sure there were no police officers watching and luckily there appeared to be none in the vicinity. Excellent. 

Just sneak by, grab it, and run.

Just sneak by, grab it….

Rumple tried to make his walk casual, but had the feeling he just looked more like a stalker than a trustworthy gentleman. Well, who cared. It didn’t matter. As he passed the bench, he reached over its back and wrapped his fingers around the cool, leather   
handles.

Yank.

Run. 

He sprinted away as if his life depended on it. This was amazing, and even though his heart was pounding, he continued to run. He didn’t bother to dodge the people on the street, letting the ghost like people move over him. After a bit he started to purposefully target them, awarding himself points for each. Business man, hippie, stereotypical white girl, wife beater, hobo, Belle. 

Of course, he didn’t melt through the last one and instead knocked both of them to the ground. The contents of the purse spewed all over the pavement, but he ignored that and hopped to his feet. 

“Belle, I’m so sorry, Belle, I didn’t mean to….” he reached out a hand, offering to help her up, but the man that had been walking behind her was already picking her up like she was a toy. The man set her on her feet, but never stopped touching her; his hand lay around her waist. 

He was quite a big man and Rumple had to look up slightly to see his face. He had strong features that he guessed could be called handsome, if you like horses that way. Okay, he didn’t look like a horse, but Rumple sure wished he did. He didn’t like the way the man was holding onto Belle. He was treating her like a mannequin that needed to steadied and, though Rumple didn’t know very much about her, he knew she could stand well on her own. 

Realizing he was staring, Rumple dipped down and started to gather the contents of the bag. A second more and Belle was down next to him helping out. 

Who was this brute, though? Father- too young; brother- they didn’t look related; half brother? Step brother? Maybe a long lost uncle from the other side of the family?

Boyfriend. 

They finished cleaning the sidewalk with little difficulty for the people, who were sparse anyway, seemed to have disappeared completely. They stood and the man grabbed her again, pulling her back to his side.   
Rumple already didn’t like this man, but then he opened his mouth. 

“Is this guy bothering you, Belle, baby?” He said it into her hair, like he was trying to make it private and romantic. How ridiculous. The question was stupid, too. He just watched her help him pick things up from the sidewalk. She wasn’t, but if anybody was bothering anybody it would be the other way around. 

Belle’s eyes were steadily watching Rumple, two gorgeous blue judges of his following behavior. He was suddenly aware that he was slouching and squared his shoulders, still looking to Belle and her eyes. They were simply breathtaking, like stars shining in the daylight. How had he missed them? 

Probably because they hadn’t been scrutinizing him before. Now they flicked quickly between him and the purse. She was obviously not impressed and very confused at the same time. Rumple gave a tight smile that she didn’t return. 

The man saw this nonverbal exchange and spoke up, “Lime green isn’t really your color, buddy.”

“It isn’t?” Rumple asked, pulling a face. He held the bag up to eye level, “I could have sworn-”

“Well, you’re lucky I’m not on duty,” the man laughed, “or else I would have to investigate you running into my girlfriend and your horrible taste in handbags.”

Girlfriend. Right.

Not only had he cut off Rumple’s snarky remark, he had specifically addressed his suspicions. The Dark One Host’s hate for this stranger intensified tenfold. 

He looked back to Belle, who was purposefully avoiding his gaze. 

“You’re a police officer?” Rumple asked, giving up that Belle was going to acknowledge him. 

The man held out his hand that wasn’t around Belle, “Yep. Gaston Moreau.”

As much as Rumple wanted to spit in his open hand, he shook it, “Rumplestiltskin.”

Rumple could see him holding back laughter, “Rumplestiltskin? Like the fairy tale?”

“Fairy tale?”

“Yeah, that little man that steals children.”

There was no reason to keep his forced smile any longer, so he dropped it, “No, Mr. Moreau, nothing like the fairy tale.”

“Please, call me Gaston,” Gaston said, letting out a whoop of laughter. 

It was out of his mouth before he could think whether it would actually be socially acceptable, but Rumple said, “Ah, I would rather not.” Gaston either did not seem to catch the seriousness in his tone or he fully ignored it. He only laughed again, like Rumple was the best stand-up comedy act he had seen in a long time. Belle noticed it. She was looking at him again. He nodded to her and then skirted around the couple, leaving the two of them behind. 

What was her deal? During the few times they had talked he thought her to be a very fiery, very independent young woman. If he tricked himself into admitting it, he would even say he was attracted to her. Not just her beauty, but her intelligence. Why was she letting that lout control her like he appeared to be? 

Also, boyfriend. She had a boyfriend. Why hadn’t she told him? He felt betrayed and a little embarrassed. If held up to it in court, he would have said he was guilty of flirting with her and, if he wasn’t mistaken, she had very well flirted back.   
Of course, on the other hand, it was totally reasonable she had a boyfriend. She was quite the find and it fell to reason that she wouldn’t stay single for long. 

He mentally slapped himself. What was he acting jealous for? It wasn’t like she was cheating on him with Mr. Like-the-little-man-who-steals-children?. It wasn’t like she was cheating on anyone. They both had flirted (he thought), but nothing more than that. They weren’t “together”, they weren’t “an item”, they were just neighbors. 

It was another moment before he added the fact she wasn’t real to the argument. 

She. Wasn’t. Real. 

That was it. End of that. Don’t feel hurt over a simulation.

He watched the ground. It still stung. 

He had trekked all the way back to the apartment without realizing it. The smell of bacon is what brought him back to the world. He tossed the purse onto the worn couch and closed the door behind him. 

“Welcome back,” Keriam shouted from around the corner in the kitchen, “I thought you might be hungry.”

Rumple was about to tell her he wasn’t when his stomach rumbled in protest. Apparently his appetite had returned with a vengeance. Sighing, he went to the kitchen. 

Keriam stood at the stove over a big pot, putting it some sort of chopped vegetable. Steam rose from the top and a smaller pan was sizzling on the burner next to it. He walked up and looked into the pot. 

“Potato soup?” He asked.

“With bacon,” she replied, grabbing a towel and taking the pan of bacon from the stove. She carried it over to the opposite counter where a plate of paper towels lay waiting. She dumped the bacon on it and then moved back to the pot. “Will you get the grease out of those and then tear them up into little pieces?”

He went and did as she asked, saying as he did so, “I got a purse.”

His back was turned to her, so he couldn’t see her reaction. It was several seconds with no answer before he felt a hand on his shoulder. It pulled on him hard, whipping him around. Keriam, showing far more strength than a normal girl her size, pushed him down to the floor and against the cabinets. Before he could stop her, she wound up and jabbed her hand at his chest. Except instead of her fingers ramming into his sternum, they plunged deep into him.

Rumple’s eyes started watering from pain and his mouth opened in a soundless scream. Apart from the fact it hurt, it was arguably the strangest feeling he had ever encountered.

When Keriam pulled her hand back out a lump with a pulsating red light was in it. 

“Is tha- is that my-?”

“Your heart,” Keriam said.

Rumple did not think hearts glowed bright red, it didn’t seem logical. However, he wasn’t going to tell Keriam that. She had moved from her knees to criss-cross, her knees almost touching his as she got comfortable between his legs. There was no point in contradicting her right now, especially when she could easily smash certain parts that he would rather stay intact. 

She amended, “your magic heart.”

Oh, that was it. Another even more vague answer that somehow put his thoughts at ease. 

Keriam was inspecting it, turning it over and over in her hand, her other one still pressing into his shoulder. She apparently found what she was looking for and her face brightened. She turned it to him and point at what she was excited about. 

A small black speck lay among the red, looking very out of place. 

“See that?” She said proudly, “that’s progress.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had such fun writing this chapter. Probably the most fun I've had with this fanfiction so far. I hope you all are enjoying the story so far, and I hope you continue to enjoy. :)


	5. Opposites Attract- Support and Refutation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more information about Belle comes to light. Then more information about Light comes to Darkness.

The next day Rumple awoke to find that, much to his dismay, he had no clean shirts left. He gathered his clothes, ignored the breakfast Keriam had made and set out for him, and trudged downstairs in his pajamas. 

Hopefully it was early enough in the morning that Belle wouldn’t be busy with laundry. All he wanted to do was avoid the whole mess. How she didn’t tell him about Gaston, why she was with Gaston in the first place, how much does Gaston bench press and why he is so much better. What? What could possibly be his appeal? 

He made it to the laundry room, pushing the door open with more force than necessary, and listening to the satisfying bang as it hit the inner wall. Belle was there, also wearing her pajamas, reading a book at the base of a running washer. She looked up as he came in and didn’t shrink under his evident scowl. 

“Good morning,” she said. 

“Morning,” he answered far less cheerfully. He walked past his usual row and went to the furthermost corner of the large room. In said corner was a washer that looked like it hadn’t been used since the Ogres War started. The paint had been scraped off in several places, showing the underlying silver. It looked like it might fall apart, but it was as far away from Belle as he could get at the moment, so he would take it. As he began to toss in his shirts, she bookmarked her most recent read and stood.

He could feel her eyes on him and so he started the washer and sat on the floor, not returning her gaze at all. He was not wearing slippers, so he focused on his feet. How long they were, the veins running through them, pick a feature. 

The rattle of the washer masked her footsteps, and he tried very hard to not look up when she rounded the corner and came into view. Yes, he knew he was pouting. Yes, he didn’t think it was very adult of him. Yes, this wasn’t the attitude that the father of a teenager should exhibit. Was he going to stop it, though? No.

“Rumple?” She asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

He wanted to continue his cold shoulder, but answered her anyway, “Yes?”

“Are you alright?”

There were so many ways he could have answered the question, and he ran through them all. Fine. Yes. No. Hold me. I’m just upset. No, I’m okay, just doing laundry. I’m great; you? Okay; how was your night? 

What he said was, “Boyfriend?”

He sounded disgusted, which had not been his intent. 

It suddenly dawned on her why he was upset, but instead of getting mad, she gave him a small smile. He was kind of cute when he was jealous. 

“It’s technically arranged.”

His head snapped around to look at her and her shy smile became more prominent, “Arranged?” He said, testing the ice. 

“Oh, definitely,” Belle reassured, “I could never go with someone as superficial as he.” 

“Ah,” Rumple whispered, keeping eye contact with her, “I’m sorry I’ve acted so rude this morning.”

“You were jealous,” she said simply, “it’s fine.”

Rumple stood up and tried to defend himself, “I was not!”

She giggled and he felt the corner of his nose twitch. That problem was put to rest, but one thing still bothered him.

“Why were you letting him push you around?”

The mood turned somber and Belle became very interested in her dark blue nail polish, “My father is in trouble. He made a deal with the wrong man in the mafia. Gaston…” She looked back to him, “is that man’s right hand, and with his word on my side, my father is pardoned. As long as I’m with Gaston, Papa’s okay….”

Rumple pulled a face, “As long as you let him oppress you, you mean.”

“I’m not oppressed!” 

She had raised her voice at him, so he matched her volume as he said, “You didn’t say one word to me yesterday!”

“If I had, he might have hurt you.”

“Then that’s my problem to deal with, Belle!”

“No, it’s-” she stopped, giving Rumple the time he needed to realize what she already had. They were so close their noses were almost touching and they could hear each other breathe. During their shouting match, they had steadily stepped forward until their present position. Soft brown eyes now searched the piercing blue, waiting for her to finish her sentence. 

“No, what?” He asked, not moving away. He felt his index finger involuntarily move, almost like it was trying to tell him to grab her hand.

“I can’t remember,” she answered, still gazing directly into his eyes. She was amazed how, even in this garish lighting, they still glistened. The fluorescent bulbs overhead making them a shade of amber. She suddenly had a strong urge to kiss him. It wouldn’t take much, just for her to raise herself to her toes a bit. 

Gaston was up in her apartment, though, and if he thought she was taking abnormally long and came looking for her and found them….

She closed her eyes as her washing machine gave an obnoxious beep, cutting the connection. Rumple’s heart twinged as she walked away to tend to her clothes, but he set to watching her. She removed her laundry and then went to a drying on the wall; sticking them in, setting the timer, and starting it. She went back to her basket and picked it up. A moment of hesitation, then she looked back at him. 

“Do you like hamburgers?”

The question caught him off guard, “I- I don’t think I’ve ever had one.”

“Okay, well, they’re great… and Gaston goes on patrol in about an hour on the other side of town,” she said, and he saw where this was going, “The burger place I’m thinking of is outside of the mafia’s influence and they never leave their territory. Would you maybe like to come have lunch with me? They have good iced tea, too.”

Before paying attention to all the warning alarms in his head, he said what he wanted to say, “Yes, I would like that.”

Belle smiled, “Great, I’ll come back down after Gaston’s left and we can go.”

“Yeah,” Rumple said, “Sounds good.” After she had left the laundry room, tossing him a hooded look, he realized she was probably going to go and change out of her pajamas. Meanwhile, he was stuck. He could only hope they would be finished by the time she was ready. He wanted to look nice because no matter how many times he told himself that not did she have a boyfriend, she wasn’t real, he wanted to enjoy this. It gave him extreme satisfaction for him to think about how he had a date. The first one since Milah been taken, actually. Rumple could go with a free conscious, thinking about how someone else had liked him enough to suggest that they go to lunch together.

He found himself smiling. That was a nice thought….

Someone liked him.  
__________________________________________________________________

As this was all transpiring, the breakfast for Rumple that had been set out upstairs was getting cold. The maker of said breakfast and the writer of the aforementioned note was anxiously awaiting the arrival of her Host. 

Keriam was on a park bench, sitting in a position that would have looked nonchalant, had it not been for the fact she kept looking over her shoulder. 

“Hmm, you’re here,” a man’s voice said, “it seems I was right to create Belle.”

She swiveled on the bench to see a tall, sandy haired, young looking pest standing behind her. Her eyes narrowed, she would have rathered she slog through his mess without actually coming face to face with the Light.

“And, in turn, I was right that you were here, so it follows that I was right to create Gaston and the mob.”

The man sneered, “I thought that was your work; only the Darkness could create such a misogynistic, pompous-”

“Whoa- hey, now!” Keriam protested, jumping over the back of the bench to confront him, “I’m against misogyny as much as the next guy. It was your fault for creating your ‘instrument of light’ in a female’s image.”

“Yes, well, it was your fault for making your ‘instrument of’-” he stopped when he saw her grimace; a smile curled his lips, “Oh, so you’re still having the Host Problem, then.”

The Darkness took a deep breath, blowing it hard out of her nose as she glared at him. She was trying to think of an answer that would not lead to ridicule. 

The Light continued, “How interesting that Darkness is supposed to be more powerful,” an evil gleam was in his eyes, “yet I am allowed to wander free, while you must be stuck to the hip of a whiny man-child.” He strode past her and took her spot on the bench, not having to look to know the color was rising in her cheeks. She skirted the bench and sat down facing him. She grew even more angry when he ignored her and stretched his legs out, placing his hands behind his head. 

“Rumplestiltskin isn’t a man-child, and he doesn’t whine; except when he talks about needing to get back to his son.”

“He has a family, then?”

She cursed herself for mentioning it, “Son.”

“Just a son?” The Light looked to her and the daggers she was shooting him gave sufficient answer, “Hmmm.. what an excellent addition….”

“Addition?” Keriam said sharply, “Addition to what?”

“To my plan,” he said, “before you darken… Rumplestiltskin, was it? Well, before you get him to be able to accept you as a ruling factor of his life, you’re going to die.”

All the color that had been filling her face now drained.

“Right,” she said, hoping she sounded like she didn’t believe him, “and how are you going to do that?”

“Oh, I’m not going to do it. Rumplestiltskin and Belle are,” he undid his comfortable pose and leaned into her face, “ with True Love’s Kiss.”

She nervously laughed, “What?”

“Rumplestiltskin and Belle are getting cosy, with my supervision, of course, and when they kiss, it will attack you first. You know, since Rumplestiltskin is your Host. With you gone I can make Belle fully real, they can go back to his life, and then his son will have a mother.” The Light looked too pleased with himself, “Brilliant, isn’t it?”

The Darkness wasn’t listening now and rounded the conversation back to herself, “You can’t kill the Darkness. People will still continue to do dark deeds.”

“True,” the Light said, “but I won’t have to deal with you, darling. You’ll be dead."


	6. When the World Would Start Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple gets a visitor in the middle of the night. 
> 
> Light and Darkness continue their games.

“Rumplestiltskin?”

“Hmm?”

“You have to kill someone.”

Rumple had not expected to hear this so early into the darkening game and looked up from his pasta. Keriam sat across from him, emulating the definition of “moody”. She was moving the noodles around on her plate, one hand propping up her head as she stared at them, and he half thought that he had imagined her saying it. He was about to just go back to eating when her eyes flitted up at him. 

“Did you hear me?” She said, “You have to kill someone to be accepted by the Darkness. It’s the only way now.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Why? I thought we were going to take it slow.”

Keriam threw her fork down and sat back in her chair, “Do you want to get back to your son?”

Rumple didn’t know why she was mad, but thought it best to answer truthfully, “Yes.”

She hardly let him finish the word before she was off again, “And do you want to do that as soon as possible like you’ve told me several times?”

He let there be a pause as he tried to discern what was happening. She was clearly upset. With him? Maybe. Probably, actually. Why was she upset? What had he done? Why did she suddenly want to speed up the darkening process by jumping to murder? It wasn’t that the proposition totally scared him, it was the thought of killing someone innocent. He wasn’t foreign to the idea of murder, after all; he had to kill Zoso to get the Darkness.

It had been a bit of time since Keriam had spoken, and he realized she probably interpreted his silence as hesitation. This was not the case, but she had apparently decided that she was going to respect the privacy of his mind now and not read his thoughts. That was another oddity to add to the growing list. She had never had a problem with invading before. 

She asked the question again, this time adding, “I thought you were anxious to get home.”

“Yes,” Rumple said, “I am.”

Some sort of relief showed in Keriam’s expression, “Good. Finish your dinner and go to bed, we can decide who to kill tomorrow.” 

She was so nonchalant about it that Rumple wondered if she was kidding, but she didn’t say anymore after that for the rest of dinner. She didn’t even say goodbye as she left his apartment. 

As he closed the door behind her and went to his room to get ready for bed, Rumple tried to will himself to be tired. All he wanted at the moment was to escape from everything that just happened. He wouldn’t have been as shaken as he was if he could kill someone that deserved it. However, the only way he could darken his heart a sufficient amount would be to kill someone totally innocent, which was not an option he found appealing. 

He lay in bed for a while and was actually able to dispel his thoughts, but still was unable to sleep. 

The night was unusually hot and, thinking perhaps the unnatural temperature was part of his lack of exhaustion, he rolled to his side and stuck one of his feet out from underneath the comforter. 

The new position was not nearly as comfortable as it usually would have been. 

His eyes drifted to the picture of him and Bae. They both looked so unbelievably happy and their cheerful smiles were the only way he knew for sure it was fake. Rumple honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled like that. The exact moment didn’t even matter, it was just even more depressing to think about an emotion he rarely got a taste of. 

As his thoughts died away again he rolled to his back and focused in on the textured ceiling.

This was ridiculous. That one night it was vitally important he had sleep so he was fully awake the next day and what happens? Nothing. Not even a sheep to count. 

A knock echoed through his apartment and it startled him, making him sit up. The small place faded back into animated silence and he stared out his bedroom door into the rest of the apartment. What time was it? Why would someone be coming to his place in the middle of the night?

He started a slow count to five, but only made it to three before a knock came again.

Heart beating fast, he slid out of bed and stumbled in the dark to the front door. He bypassed the peephole and opened it to find Belle standing in the hallway. Her arms were crossed, but she didn’t appear angry. If anything she looked scared.

“Belle?”

“I’m sorry, Rumple, I know it’s late.”

“No- no, you’re fine,” he said, giving a lopsided smile, “I hadn’t gone to bed, yet.”

She nodded, her expression showing that she didn’t believe him, “So you were just sitting in your apartment with all the lights off?”

“Wha-?” He realized suddenly they were indeed standing in complete darkness. Trying to stay cool, he found the lightswitch with his right hand and flicked it on. They both took a couple seconds to adjust to the flood of contrast before Belle gave him a shy glance. 

“Can I come in?”

A flare of panic made his heart flutter, “Yeah, yeah, of course you can.” He back up to let her in and closed the door. 

This was her first time inside his apartment, he thought, and she was looking around the small living area like it was the Taj Mahal. His face softened as he wondered what she was thinking. Why did she look so amazed? He had a flood of questions he wanted to ask her, but there was a much more pressing matter and that was the mystery of why she was here. 

She hadn’t uncrossed her arms, almost like she was protecting herself from something. She turned to him and he noticed her eyes were puffy. Had she been crying? Why? A small snarl in his head wanted to ask who made her cry, but he ignored it, feeling that it wasn’t appropriate. 

“Belle, I- uh, I normally would be alright with just a random visit, but-”

“But it’s the middle of the night? Yeah.” She bit her lip and tucked a stray lock of hair from her braid behind her ear, “I am sorry. I had to get out of my apartment.”

“Ah?” Rumple wet his lips, “Well, do you want tea?”

“No, thank you,” Belle said. The answer sat for a bit and then she smiled.

“What?” He asked.

“It just occurred to me that this is encounter number two where we have both been in our pajamas.”

He almost laughed, but caught himself, “Do you want to sit down?”

She gave a tiny nod and they both walked over, Rumple in the middle and Belle on the edge. 

“Do you mind if I ask why you had to get out of your apartment?” As it left his mouth he blinked in surprise. Normally he wouldn’t have been so brazen as to ask that. Why did he ask that?

She didn’t look at him, “Gaston finally fell asleep.”

“Oh….” What the Hell did that mean?

Her eyes were still pointed into the carpet when he went to look at her and so he took his time tracing his gaze down her cheek and to her neck. He hadn’t noticed it before because it was so expertly covered by her braid, but an ugly black and purple bruise was present. It started behind her hair and stretched down, disappearing into the collar on her pajamas. 

“What’s that?” He asked, moving almost automatically he reached forward to touch it. She flinched as his fingers brushed her skin and he pulled back his hand sharply. This wasn’t like him. None of this was. He would never touch someone who had not given their permission to be touched. It was like something had possessed him to have a blatant disregard for the certain stage in his friendship with her. 

Overcome with a wave of sheepishness he moved away from her a bit, “I’m sorry.”

He felt her move so she was beside him. Then she was touching his hand, her warm fingers wrapping around his and giving a small squeeze. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, “you were just worried.” 

He expected her hand to slip away, but it didn’t. Looking to her he saw an odd sense of gratitude he hadn’t expected. The question of who gave her the bruise still played in the back of his head and must have shown in his eyes for Belle looked down, moving her other hand to his knee. 

“Sometimes Gaston comes home,” there was an unnaturally long pause, “upset with things that happened during the day.”

Bewildered, Rumple lowered his head, staring at about the same place in the floor that she was. Gaston hurt her? Gaston hit her? Gaston had proceeded to fall asleep with no thought to how she was? Yes, she thought she was doing the right thing by staying with him because of her father, but taking beatings?

“If it…” Rumple swallowed, “If he tries to do this again I want you to come to me. Alright?” There was nothing he could do at the moment because he didn’t have any magic, yet, but surely he could convince Keriam to help. 

With all their previous conversations he had just thrown the offer out there on the frail chance she would accept. She was strong, fierce, intelligent, and just a little too stubborn. He knew she thought she could take care of herself and fully expected her to say no.

“Okay.”

Their eyes met and she moved even closer to him. She set her head on his shoulder, snuggling up to him and he accepted, wrapping his arm around her and leaning back into the couch to get comfortable. She moved her hand from his knee to his chest, gripping the fabric of his pajamas. She then swung her legs over his, making a cross. He put his hand on her thigh, helping her stay on his lap. 

Then they were still, both of them enveloped in the other with their eyes closed, breathing in the other’s scent. Neither really remembered how they got in this position since it happened so fast, but they did know they didn’t want to pull away. 

They drifted to sleep, unaware of whatever the future would hold. For now all thoughts flew to another realm, not to be heard from again as long as they stayed on that couch. 

Her father. His son. Her boyfriend. His Darkness. The fact she wasn’t real. The fact he had to murder someone in the next 24 hours. 

Everything was gone, at least until the morning.

When the world would start again.  
___________________________________________  
MEANWHILE, both the Light and the Darkness stood in the middle of a virtually abandoned park staring into a puddle in the sidewalk at an image of Belle and Rumple sleeping peacefully. 

The Darkness pulled back, a sneer carved into her face. 

Light also straightened up, “Well, my dear, I believe that score stands at one to goose egg. Hmm?”

“That was a nasty, despicable thing to do.”

“What, really?” Light said, smirking, “And making Gaston beat her wasn’t?”

Darkness cast a half-hearted stunning spell at his face that he smacked away with ease, “Look, you pompous idiot, I’m doing what I have to do to survive. May I remind you that you’re trying to kill me?”

Light shrugged, but didn’t say anything. He just popped his coat collar and turned on his heel, striding away into the night. 

She watched him go and muttered under her breath, “What. A. Royal. Prat.”


End file.
